Hands Like His
by Irnysian
Summary: "His hands seemed so soft and gentle to her...that they didn't stay that way only caused her to want more." DuncanXFemWarden One-shot. Rated 'M' for safety's sake. Don't ask me why I did this...
1. Chapter 1

Note: I have no idea. None. This just...it just popped into my head, and I ran with it... Yeah.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

She could remember exactly how it had felt, his hands against her skin. She had found it odd, at the time, that a man so large could be so gentle; but he was.

She didn't know why it happened, just that it did; they had made camp that first night, when all of a sudden the forest started crying on them. She had been taking off her weapons, any constricting clothing, things of that sort, before she laid down to sleep, but then was being rushed to shelter, and rained on. It was once they had reached shelter, some ten feet away, in a rather large hollow in the roots of a tree, that she realized she had left some of her gear out in the rain. He tried to stop her, but she was small, and quick, and easily scrambled out from the roots, and darted to her things. It took only half a minute to make sure it was all collected, but by that time, she had been completely drenched in freezing water.

When she got back to the root-shelter, she was shaking. He helped her strip sown to her small-clothes, and threw his blanket around her. Her hair was plastered to her face, and she couldn't feel her toes, or move her arms (the blanket limited her movement), but she still pressed herself to him, wishing for that extra warmth a body would lend.

And that's when they entered unfamiliar waters. One moment, he was rubbing her arm through the blanket, try to help her warm up, and the next...the next, they would lying on the ground, the bedrolls thrown haphazardly underneath them, her drenched and half-naked, attempting to relieve him of his weapons and armor, and him fumbling in a somewhat blind fashion to keep her wrapped up through all this.

It had been so tame, that first night. There was little pain involved, and his hands were so soft, despite the fact that he was a warrior.

The following nights were not repeat events.

The second night, it happened again, almost on accident, but it was much less gentle. His hands no longer felt soft, but rough, like a warrior's hands should feel. His beard, though it looked soft, scratched her more sensitive skin, and her nails, unkempt and long, left marks on his back and arms.

The next eight nights went the same, with them tangled on the ground, gasping or crying out, being as rough as they knew how, as if it was something they _had_ to do. It never started the same way, sometimes with him staring at her for what felt like hours before she invited him over to her spot by the fire, sometimes with her pouncing on him the moment his bedroll was laid out. It even moved into the day, with her throwing twigs at him until he turned around, only to find her chest armor completely missing, at which point they would find a bush, somewhere far from the main road, where they could indulge themselves for a few minutes before getting back on the road.

When they had finally made it to Ostagar, they both knew their fun had come to an end; it was serious now. The battle was on the horizon, and there was work to do; blood to collect, scrolls to find...people to meet. For some reason, though, he still gave her that look, when he thought no one was watching; she still threw small pebbles at his hair, before they left for the Wilds. And they knew: one more time, and we'll never need each other like this again.

So when she got back from the Wilds, and the others had wandered away, she looked him straight in the eye, and walked into his tent. Seconds later, he was behind her, unbuckling the straps on her chest-plate, tearing her hair from the braids she had put it in...she returned the favor, and nearly tearing his hair out with the string he used to keep it up, her hands fumbling for the buckles of his belt. Within a minute, their usual behavior returned, with all the gasping and biting and scratching it entailed. They didn't have much time, that was well-known to them, but they would milk this moment for all it was worth.

That night, after the Joining, when he walked away, and she was left by Alistair's side, they shared a glance - just one glance - and it was enough to tell her something was wrong. And indeed, something was terribly wrong: she and Alistair had to fight their way to the top of the tower, killing Maker knows how many darkspawn, and an Ogre, before they could light the beacon...and still the fighting continued.

When she woke up, she was alone, with the witch from the Wilds staring at her. Alistair was waiting for her outside.

But he was dead. He was dead, because Loghain betrayed them, and allowed the darkspawn to overpower them. He was dead, and she would never feel those rough hands against her skin, or have his beard scratch and tickle her like it had.

He was dead, but she was alive.

And they would pay for what they stole.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Author's Note: So, yeah... What did I just write? I'm not entirely sure. I just had this thought, while replaying Origins, that went something like, "Oh my god, old-man-crush! Duncan, I don't think you've heard this from me before, dude, but...you're actually pretty hot."

Why did I think that? I don't even know if I want to think about why I thought that. I just did. And then, I felt like flirting with him, so I did...and nothing happened, because he's such a polite guy, and he said it would be inappropriate for him to be in my chambers unescorted.

And then _this_ happened in my head, so I spent a long time writing it down.

No, I have no clue which Warden this is. Obviously, it's a female, and either a warrior or a rogue, so...city elf, Dalish elf, or noble-born human. Take your pick. I frankly don't care. Personally, I'd make it myself, and turn myself into a Dalish rogue, and then... Yeah, anyway...

Hope you enjoy it (even though it focuses mostly on highly vague descriptions of sexual relations, but...you know how teenagers are...)! I'm so sorry I've stopped with HoG, I've been having an internal battle with myself over where to take that character...does she stay all Jedi-like, or do I make her slightly Sith-ish? I don't know: dark side, or no dark side? Would love to know your opinions.


	2. Chapter 2

He was there. Why he was there she didn't know. The place she had been in felt odd. He was trying to convince her everything was fine, but something was off in the way he spoke to her, in the way he looked at her. She felt wrong, talking to him like this.

And then he attacked her. She had to kill him.

It wasn't him, she kept telling herself. It wasn't him. The demons had tried to trick her, she hadn't really killed him. Only demons.

That didn't stop her from crying herself to sleep the night they freed themselves from the sloth demon's trap.

* * *

><p><p>

Alistair was a sweet man. A good man. His attentions were flattering. But she couldn't feel for anyone other than her Warden. And as hard as Alistair tried, as much as she gave to her, as much as he sacrificed...she continued to turn him down.

Zevran was no better. He wanted nothing but a physical relationship, and she had given him one night, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't good enough. His hands were too soft.

Duncan would have been good to her. He would have kept her warm in her tent, or in his. She knew now that he didn't have much time left, before he was killed, but she could have made the time count. She could have helped him, eased him through the trouble of surrendering to the taint.

She would have loved him, if Duncan had been there.

* * *

><p><p>

She stood on a mountain of enemies. Around her were her companions, and beneath her were those she had slain. Newest to the pile was Loghain. The bastard had deserved to die. He had taken Duncan from her, had taken assured victory at Ostagar away from Fereldan. He had made the Blight worse than it could have been. And now he was dead, like all the rest who had stood in her way.

She was ready to kill the archdemon. She had denied Morrigan her child; she did not care to live through this. Alistair had begged her, some weeks before, to be with him. He would be King, if she would be his Queen. Even if she only agreed to be by his side, not on the throne, he would be the happiest man. But she couldn't do it. So she refused, and told Morrigan to leave.

She was there. Strong and powerful, backed by a company that would never let her down. She would stand against the archdemon, and take it down with her own two hands.

And that's exactly what she did. Alistair called for her, but she paid him no mind. The other two were horrified by her surprise heroics, though they should not have been even surprised by them, but she raced on anyway.

This was what Duncan had died to do. What he had died trying to do.

She would finish what the Wardens had started. She would kill the archdemon.

* * *

><p><p>

All was right. She was warm, happy, at peace. The arm of her lover was around her waist, his hands as rough in death as they were in life. The face of the blessed Andraste smiled on her, and she knew she could be whole now.

The world she had left mourned her loss; she did not. She was at home here, among the Maker's children.

She was at home here, with Duncan.

* * *

><p><p>

A/N: So...yep. What was intended to be a one-shot is now a two-shot. :P

I decided to give it a semi-happy-but-kinda-cheesy ending. And yeah, I made up a Dragon Age heaven. While I myself may not believe in such things, I don't see why characters from a fictional world shouldn't be allowed to be by their Maker's side. Plus, it is a nice thought, to have them together again.

So I did it. I fell into that silly cliché of "We'll meet on the other side." I apologize. I figured that's what people would have wanted, deep down in their heart of hearts.

Enjoy. 3


End file.
